


tomorrow i'll switch the beat (to avoid yesterday's dance)

by skochius



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha!LOki, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caring, Confessions, Fluffy Ending, Loki Angst, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Short & Sweet, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Character, Trans!Alpha Character, Trust, omega!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skochius/pseuds/skochius
Summary: At this point in their relationship, Loki knows he needs to confess a truth about his alpha nature to his omega before things get too serious.





	tomorrow i'll switch the beat (to avoid yesterday's dance)

**Author's Note:**

> so one of the things i've noticed in a/b/o fics is omegas taking pills to make them smell like betas, or to avoid heats/pregnancy and same for alphas. but i've never (in my experience) come across a character that actually fully transitions from one to another. i started to mentally explore what that would mean for the different genders, etc, and this was born as sort of a brain-child.

 

 

* * *

 

Loki's palms are sweating.

No matter how many times he licks his lips with his dry tongue, they remain cracked and shaky. He keeps telling himself that there is no need to be nervous -- either Tony would accept him, or he wouldn't. Loki has everything planned out from start to finish, with backup plans A-Z and 1 to 100 -- _if he frowns when I say that, I'll say this and if he doesn't buy this, I'll do that_ \-- on and on, scenarios ranging from Tony walking out to Tony screaming and dumping him to Tony putting up with 'it' until he just couldn't take the disappointment anymore.

(None of the countless scenarios Loki has run end in anything truly happy.)

Loki grips the bathroom counter, his own, terrified reflection staring back with wide eyes. _You can do this,_ he tells himself. Or lies to himself.

Through his harsh and uneven breaths, Loki can hear Tony puttering around in his living room. For all that Tony likes to obnoxiously tease about how 'uncivilized' the '99%' were, he spends more time crashing on Loki's couch and watching Netflix than hanging around his empty, echoing penthouse.

"Loki?" Tony calls. "Are you okay?"

On the plastic counter, Loki's box of Alpha hormones sits in the open, taunting him. He has the urge to shove it back into the cabinet below where it belongs; hide it, keep it safe. Instead, Loki picks it up. It is white, impersonal, and yet shelters the medicine he fought for the legality of.

"Loki?" A rap on the door startles a yelp from Loki. Of course, Tony's sharp ears catch it. "Hey, what's up?" Concern laces his voice, and Loki hates it. It must be the hormones; an Omega's distress never bothered him before he start hormones --

"I'm fine," he answers. "Just a moment."

There's a beat of silence, and Loki can practically see the grumpy, flat stare Tony must be giving the door. "Okayyyy," Tony drawls. "Whenever you're done hiding in the bathroom like an awkward prom date, the Chinese is waiting."

Loki snorts. "Got experience with people hiding from you in the bathroom, Tony?"

"Got experience with people hiding _with me_ in the bathroom," he fires back. "I'm eating all your Kung Pao Chicken, loser."

"Don't you dare!"

Tony's laughter sounds distant. "Come stop me then, you big, bad Alpha."

"Damn straight," Loki mutters. His reflection glares back at him. "I am a goddamn Alpha."

Before he can give himself second (or third, or fourth...) thoughts, Loki strikes open the bathroom door and marches out. A scowl pops onto his face when he follows the smell of take out, only to find Tony poised with a spoonful of Kung Pao Chicken halfway into his mouth.

Eyes glittering devilishly, Tony downs the stolen bite with relish. He cocks his head, though, at the sight of the box in Loki's hands.

Panic threads through Loki again. He didn't even realized he had grabbed it -- why had he taken it? Why, why, why?

"I need to talk to you about something." Loki has to force the words out of his throat, and they come hard, like the first wave of vomiting. "Please, Tony." Then he has to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth, lest he _actually_ vomit.

The smell of the Chinese take out is oppressively heavy.

Tony takes Loki in, eyes darting over his body. "Yeah, of course," he says. "Anything." There's a tense nervousness in his posture; his shoulders come up to his ears and he doesn't seem inclined to hold Loki's gaze for more than a second.

Taking a deep breath, Loki holds out his hand to guide his Omega to the couch. Now that the moment has come, a thousand lies spring to mind -- an old layover from childhood. But he can't worm his way out of this. Tony deserves to know.

Loki sets the box of hormones on the coffee table. His hands won't stop trembling.

"I was... Tony, I was assigned Omega at birth." The sharp inhale that comes from Tony makes him want to die. "But... I'm not. I started my transition to Alpha when I was twenty."

He doesn't flinch when Tony's warm palm covers his knee, but it's a close thing.

"Loki... Hey, look at me, come on."

Tony might as well have asked him to look directly into the sun. Still, Loki tears his eyes away from the neat, sterile box. They start at Tony's hand, the comforting shape and weight of it, and crawl up his arm, taking in every roped coil of muscle there, every white scar and perfect imperfection. It seems to take ages, though, for Loki to cross that boundary of neck (marked, in plain sight, purple and thrilling, from their last makeout session on this very couch) to his face.

Gently, Tony cups Loki's cheek with his other hand and tilts his head up. Tony's eyes have always been so expressive, whether they're warmed with love or spitting anger. Loki desperately searches for something -- anything -- disgust, hate, vitriol.

But there's only calm. Worry.

"Thank you for telling me," he says. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you."

Loki blinks. He doesn't quite comprehend the words Tony just said. He might as well have been speaking a long-forgotten language studied in high school. "I can't knot you," Loki blurts.

Tony's eyebrows furrow.

"I don't have the gland," Loki says in a rush, "so I can't knot. There's surgeries, but they don't always work and I'm not sure I want--"

"Woah, woah, woah," Tony says. "Hold on. Who said anything about knotting?"

A strange frustration wells in Loki. He was _so prepared_ for Tony to leave, or get angry, that he's not sure what to do or say. For some reason, he feels compelled to... what? Drive Tony away?

Tony strokes his thumb over Loki's cheekbone, leaving a smear of wetness. When had he started to cry? "Loki," Tony says, his voice low, a comforting baritone that resonates in Loki's chest. "I don't care. Okay? You don't have to do anything to make me happy." He smiles. "Other than give me your Kung Pao Chicken."

Loki huffs weakly at the joke. "Get your own, Mister 1%. You could have your pick of the crop." He's not sure if he's still talking about food.

"I'd rather have yours."

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Tony bows his head in a show of submission that has Loki's stomach doing flips, and the Omega deftly squirms to tuck himself into Loki's side. Loki noses at his hair, inhaling the comforting scent of a calm Omega. His own frayed nerves settle.

"I... care about you," Tony says, hesitating over the word, because it's still too soon for anything stronger, but the sentiment is there, projected through the palm still resting on Loki's knee. "I'm not going anywhere, not because of this."

Loki presses an off-kilter kiss to Tony's hairline. "You know I can still rut, though, right?" He can feel the smile that brings to Tony's lips growing against his neck, and drinks in the chuckle. "I'm just saying."

"Keep talking about ruts and that take out's going to get cold before we get back to it."

"Oh noooo," Loki teases. "Not the take out!"

Tony squeezes Loki's knee. "God forbid. Come on, I want another bite of that chicken."

"Tony, _no_."

"Tony, yes. Two bites."

"That's not how you bargain."

"Who says I'm bargaining? Three bites."

There's laughter that suffuses the air of the apartment, gathering like it never could in Tony's airy, lonely penthouse. It's safe and _home_ and the dumb, instinctual part of Loki's hindbrain purrs at the happiness radiating from his Omega. "Get your own," Loki says, joy bubbling in him.

"Why?" Tony responds, his face open and honest. "I'd rather have yours."

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i might continue this universe later... i have some ideas. :)
> 
> if you want to hang out with me on tumblr, my username is shieldcommanderstark. i post a lot of tony, as well as mcu favs in general!


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